


cuts like a knife (but it feels so right)

by emmerrr



Series: To live will be an awfully big adventure [19]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Minor Blood Mention, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 13:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12865806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmerrr/pseuds/emmerrr
Summary: “Just fucking say it, Neil.”“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’,” Neil said with a sigh. He pressed down on the tape and inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he got up and packed the first-aid kit away, aware of Andrew watching him the entire time. He smiled, then leaned down and kissed Andrew’s forehead. “I did fucking tell you, though.”“There it is.”





	cuts like a knife (but it feels so right)

**Author's Note:**

> I combined 5 tumblr prompts to create this pile of fluff:  
> -Having their hair washed by the other  
> -Patching up a wound  
> -One falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap.  
> -Forehead or cheek kisses  
> -Head scratches
> 
> named after a bryan adams song lmao

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Neil said, looking up from the sports pages with a frown. There was an article in there about Kevin that Neil wanted to cut out and frame just to annoy Andrew.

The man himself was leaning against the kitchen counter, a bread-roll in his hand that he was slicing with a sharp knife, the blade inching ever closer to Andrew’s palm.

“Do what,” Andrew asked with absolutely no inflection.

“ _That_ ,” Neil said. Andrew knew full-well what he was talking about; it had been brought up many times before. “One of these days you’re going to cut your hand, and I won’t feel sorry for you.”

The look Andrew shot Neil was dripping with derision. “I do this nearly every day and it hasn’t happened yet.”

“It only takes once.”

Andrew rolled his eyes but made no further reply, and Neil returned his attention to the paper, Kevin’s triumphant game-winning grin staring back at him. The season had just drawn to a close, Kevin’s team narrowly beating out Matt’s in the final. Neil and Andrew’s team had lost to Kevin’s in the semi-final; it still stung, but Neil was proud anyway, of himself and Andrew and the rest of their team. He was even prouder of Kevin.

For now though, he was just looking forward to an extended break. He’d been quietly pleased when Andrew had joined him for a run this morning, and now back, he was planning on hopping in the shower as soon as he’d finished with the paper. Maybe he’d be able to convince Andrew to join him there, too.

“Neil.”

“Hm?”

“You can say ‘I told you so’ if you want.”

“What?” Neil looked up and Andrew was holding his hand over the sink, dripping blood. “Oh fuck,  _Andrew_.”

Neil was out of his chair in an instant and over to the sink. He took Andrew’s wrist and gently turned it over so he could see the wound. Across Andrew’s palm was a thin line; not deep, but still bleeding.

“Is it deep?” Andrew asked. He wasn’t looking at his injured hand but the slight furrow on his brow indicated that it was causing him some discomfort. “I’m not going to the hospital. If it needs stitches, you can do it.”

“It’s not that bad,” Neil said. He turned the tap on and rinsed Andrew’s hand underneath, then grabbed some kitchen paper and stuffed it onto the cut until he could hunt down their well-stocked first-aid kit. “You won’t need stitches.”

He pulled Andrew over to the kitchen table and sat him down, then took Andrew’s other hand and pressed it against the paper towels. “Hold those there, I’ll be right back.”

It took Neil a couple of minutes to track down the first-aid kit in the bathroom. It got more use than he’d like, thanks to the rough nature of their jobs, not to mention Neil was a little accident-prone.

Back in the kitchen, he sat down opposite Andrew and dug through the kit, pulling out disinfectant and bandages. He held his hand out expectantly, and Andrew dropped his injured one straight into it.

Neil carefully pulled away the paper towels and put them aside. “This might sting a little,” he said, and set about cleaning the wound with disinfectant.

Andrew sat through the whole thing in stoic silence, not even a wince as Neil cleaned him up then carefully set about wrapping a bandage around his hand. It wasn’t until Neil was finishing up and taping the bandage in place that Andrew finally spoke up.

“Just fucking say it, Neil.”

“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’,” Neil said with a sigh. He pressed down on the tape and inspected his handiwork. Satisfied, he got up and packed the first-aid kit away, aware of Andrew watching him the entire time. He smiled, then leaned down and kissed Andrew’s forehead. “I  _did_ fucking tell you, though.”

“There it is.”

* * *

 

As it happened, Andrew  _did_ end up in the shower with Neil, albeit more out of necessity than anything else. They had to bag his hand so the bandage didn’t get wet, and showering one-handed wasn’t exactly the easiest of tasks.

Neil hurriedly washed his own hair then turned his attention to Andrew. The second his fingers were in Andrew’s hair, hazel eyes slid shut.

“I remember,” Neil said thoughtfully as he lathered up Andrew’s blond hair, “when you had to do this for me.”

Andrew’s eyes flickered back open. “Well, if we’re taking a trip down memory lane, that’s not the only thing I did for you.”

Only Andrew could reference a blow job with such a disinterested expression, and Neil snorted a laugh. “I could do that too. If you want.”

Andrew hummed, considering. “Maybe later. Tired.”

“Okay,” Neil said fondly, before gently guiding Andrew’s head under the spray to rinse him off. “Now. Do you want the conditioner that smells like mangoes or the one that smells like vanilla?”

Andrew eyed the mango one with great distaste. “Vanilla. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Neil repeated, smiling as he squeezed some out into his hand. He worked it into Andrew’s hair. “So. What do you wanna do for the rest of the day.”

Andrew shrugged. “Nap first. I don’t care what we do later.”

“What do you need a nap for?”

Andrew glanced up at Neil. “ _Someone_ got me out of bed ridiculously early to go for a run.”

“Hey,” Neil chided. “You got up of your own accord. It’s not  _my_ fault you couldn’t bear to be without me for an hour.”

Andrew’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t deny it.

Neil grinned. With Andrew, it was so often in what he  _didn’t_ say, and Neil took these victories where he could.

Once out of the shower and dressed, Neil went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and clean up the mess Andrew had made when he cut his hand.

When it was tidy, Neil leaned back against the counter and waited for the coffee machine to beep. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages. There were three unread; one from Matt, one from Nicky, one from Allison. He replied to Matt’s and Allison’s, but Andrew was going to call Nicky later anyway, so Neil could talk to him then.

He poured out two mugs of coffee and made his way over to the living room, but he paused in the doorway and watched for a moment because Andrew seemed to be having some sort of muted stand-off with the cats.

Andrew was sitting on the far seat of the sofa, glaring down at Sir and King who had spread themselves over the rest of it. They were clearly getting in the way of Andrew’s napping idea.

Neil cleared his throat lightly and Andrew looked up. “Come and move your useless fur-babies.”

“You move them,” Neil said, entering the room at last. “Just pick them up and put them on the floor.” He put the mugs on the coffee table.

“If I pick them up, they  _win_ ,” Andrew said stubbornly. “Also, I’m injured.” He illustrated this by holding up his bandaged hand.

Neil looked at Andrew. Andrew looked back.

“You,” Neil said, “are a ridiculous human being.” He hoisted up a cat under each arm and deposited them on the floor, then sat down and reached for his coffee. As soon as he was sitting back, Andrew spread himself along the sofa, resting his head in Neil’s lap.

“This is a preemptive measure,” he explained tiredly. “So the cats don’t jump back up here.”

Neil took a sip of coffee and laughed lightly. “You know that won’t stop them, right?”

As if they were listening, both cats jumped up within seconds of each other. Sir settled down behind Andrew’s knees, King in front of his chest. Andrew huffed a  _very_ put upon sigh, but magnanimously refrained from shoving them off.

“Look at that,” Neil said. “Progress.”

“Shut. Up.”

Neil laughed again and leaned back a little more. He carefully lifted his feet and rested them on the coffee table, earning him a tiny annoyed grunt when he jostled Andrew’s head.

“Alright, alright,” he said, and settled his free hand in Andrew’s hair. “I was just getting comfy.” He scratched lightly at Andrew’s head and then stilled his hand.

A couple of seconds ticked by, then Andrew grunted again.

“What?” Neil asked.

Another grunt, this time punctuated by Andrew pushing his head into Neil’s hand just a little, until he got the message and started scratching again.

“You can use your words, y’know,” Neil said, but he couldn’t honestly say he minded having Andrew warm and comfortable and safe under his hands.

Andrew didn’t respond because he was also incredibly difficult, a trait that was often infuriating but occasionally endearing. Such as now.

By the time Neil had drained his coffee, Andrew’s breathing had gone suspiciously deep and even.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered. “Your coffee’s gonna go cold.”

But Andrew was most definitely asleep, and most definitely did not currently care about his coffee.

It was fine. Neil would make him more when he woke up.

Moving with painstaking slowness so as to minimise jostling Andrew, Neil put his mug back on the table. Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the sounds of his cats obnoxiously purring and Andrew’s soft breathing lull him to sleep.

He was home.


End file.
